


Upon the Ocean's Final Wave

by AdaMarina



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: AU, Della is dead in this AU, Not Missing, Sad Scrooge, Webby knows just as little as the triplets about their family, dead, missing person, strict upbringing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-21 02:52:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdaMarina/pseuds/AdaMarina
Summary: Even the biggest mansion felt small when it’s all you’ve ever known, something Huey, Dewey and Louie knew all too well.After their mother's death ten years ago the triplets were sent to live in McDuck Manor, and since the day they arrived they have never been allowed outside the walls that surround their home. Their uncle, while caring, is distant, and with many locked doors and forbidden places the triplets and Webby just know that the old duck is hiding something. They take things into their own hands, determined to find out the truth... but what price will they have to pay?Meanwhile, Scrooge struggles to keep everything from falling apart; holding onto what's left of his family has never been more difficult and nothing will be the same ever again.





	1. Echoes of a Memory

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen a few AUs out there where Donald was the one to disappear instead of Della (I love those AUs honestly) so here I present to you an AU where Donald disappeared and Della died (rather than disappearing)!
> 
> Obviously not canon compliant, and future episodes will not affect how this AU plays out.

Even the biggest mansion felt small when it’s all you’ve ever known, something Huey, Dewey and Louie knew all too well.

Sure, growing up alongside Webby was fun. Sure, Bentina taught them everything they needed to know. Sure, they had all the food or games they could ever want. And sure, they had a library full of books that could take them anywhere they wanted, even if only in their minds. But at the end of the day, the mansion was still a prison, with its randomly locked doors, high stone fence around the yard, and its cold-hearted warden.

Of course that wasn’t quite fair to say- the triplets knew, on some level, their uncle loved them. The richest duck in the world wouldn’t have taken them into his home if he didn’t, but his rules were strict and he found out about _everything._

Rule number one; do not go into the garage, ever. The door remained not only locked but padlocked... in multiples. From the inside. No matter how much the four children in the house tried, they could never get inside.

Rule number two; the attic was strictly off limits, even moreso than the garage. Truth be told, they didn’t even know where the attic’s entrance was, it was just _that_ off limits.

Rule number three; stay out of Uncle Scrooge’s rooms and office, and the rooms directly around them. In fact, they found, if they even stepped foot in that wing of the house either the housekeeper or Scrooge himself would suddenly sweep in to shoo them away.

Rule number four; stay inside until all chores are done and Bentina can supervise, and be back inside before nightfall. It left very little time for them to be outside, as if they weren’t inside the moment the sun finished setting their uncle would come out looking for them. None of them liked it when their uncle was angry. Bentina assured them, of course, he was just worried, but the children just could not understand- not when the yard was well lit.

Rule number five; stay out of the pool. In fact, the children could count on one hand how many times Scrooge had relented and allowed them to go swimming, only under the condition that they stayed solely in the shallow end and had floaties, and Bentina and Launchpad and Scrooge himself watching them.

There were a host of other rules, but these five were the biggest ones. However, number five seemed to be the most important to Scrooge. It seemed Scrooge became even stricter whenever water was involved; Dewey, having seen on TV families hanging out at the beach, had begged their uncle to take them to the beach one day, promising they’d be good and stay right there at the shoreline, but he had just kept saying no.

The kids kept begging until Scrooge slammed his cane down on the table at dinner, silencing everyone, and said in no uncertain words, _“The answer is no, lads. Don’t ask ever again.”_ Then he had quietly stood up and stormed out of the dining room, leaving his dinner mostly untouched.

Bentina made it clear they were to never ask again, and they didn’t. They didn’t know what Scrooge had against the beach- against the ocean, the lake, the water... they didn’t know, and they had a feeling they would never find out.

However, sometimes Scrooge wasn’t home. He mostly worked from home, but occasionally he had to go to the Bin, a large building on the other end of town, and when he left they had just a little more freedom than they otherwise would have had.

During one of these rare times they discovered the boathouse, sitting nestled in the back yard against the fence and hidden from sight by shrubbery. The four children, in a way, adopted the boat as a little clubhouse, wondering to themselves why Scrooge had it and if it had ever been on the water, or why it was so well-cared for if Scrooge never used it. However, it was short lived.

When they were caught, Scrooge was not just angry; he was livid.

_“Stay outt’a that boat, it’s not to be played with!”_ he had hissed as he escorted them back down to the ground.

_“But Uncle Scrooge-”_ Louie had tried, but one look from Scrooge silenced him, because the look in Scrooge’s eyes wasn’t just anger; he looked stricken.

_“We just wanted to have fun,”_ Dewey had continued lamely, not meeting his uncle’s gaze. _“It was, well... new. Different, and... it just...”_

_“Made everything seem less small,”_ Huey had finished, his voice small.

_“We’re sorry, Mr. McDuck,”_ Webby had added, hands folded in front of her as she looked down.

None of them watched Scrooge, and none of them noticed his expression soften, a strange sadness coming over his features.

Scrooge knelt down to their level. _“Listen, lads, lass,”_ he had started, prompting them to look up again. _“I know it gets small, borin’ even, stuck in one place for so long,”_ he said seriously, looking at each of them in turn, _“but this is home, and home is where ye’re safe. That boat...”_ he had trailed off, as if he wanted to say something but then changed his mind. He shook his head. _“That boat is not a clubhouse. It was once to be someone’s home, an’ I don’t want ye little rascals in there. Understood?”_

_“Yes, Uncle Scrooge,”_ the triplets had chorused as Webby said, _“Yes, Mr. McDuck.”_

_“Jolly good. Now get inside before I decide to ground the lot o’ ye.”_

They never did find out who the boat actually belonged to. Remembering that look in his eyes, none of them wanted to bring it up.

Instead they went back to playing make believe and pretending, wondering what all the paintings of their Uncle Scrooge was all about and just why there were so many forbidden rooms in the house.

Sometimes they felt like they would never know.

* * *

Scrooge stood in the old boat, looking around. It wasn’t the most spacious cabin but had no personal artifacts inside, which made it feel so much larger than it was.

It had been brand new just twelve years ago- just a bit older than the triplets were.

He closed his eyes, thinking back to that day down by the harbor. Back to a conversation that had happened in the very spot he stood in, right there in what would have been a kitchen.

_“Donald, lad, I can... somewhat respect ye wantin’ to live on the water, but does it have to be_ this _boat?”_

_“Absolutely, Uncle Scrooge! I know it’s small and not up to_ your _standards, but I’m not you. Besides, only I’m gonna live here, so I don’t need all that much space!”_

He couldn’t help but smile slightly, sadly, as that statement echoed around him, in his own mind. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

_“Well there are better small boats, ye know.”_

_“Maybe, but this one’s the one for me.”_

Always so stubborn and looking for a meaning in everything- Scrooge’s nephew was always a dreamer. This boat- it was _meant_ for him.

_“Well in that case ye should go speak to the seller, so he knows ye’re interested. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone this time. I’ll help ye put the down payment, but once we get back ye pay the rest and pay me back.”_

_“Thanks, Uncle Scrooge.”_

Scrooge’s sad smile faded into a frown and he opened his eyes, looking around the empty boathouse again. Donald had been so excited to finally move out of the mansion, to finally separate from Scrooge and Della and have his own space, his own little taste of independence. A place to call his own.

If only he’d had a chance to live in it.


	2. Someone Else

_ Scrooge was there when the two tiny ducklings hatched, his sister excitedly cooing over them both. The older one- by a mere two and a half seconds, according to Quackmore- blinked his eyes up at them before he started crying, his sister following shortly after. _

_ Hortense swooped them up into her arms and began to fuss over them like the mother hen she had become. _

_ “So what are their names?” Quackmore’s mother asked her son as Hortense was otherwise occupied with the hatchlings. Scrooge kept his gaze on his sister, smiling softly; she was in love with those two little babies and he could tell. _

_ “The boy is Donald Fauntleroy Duck,” Quackmore answered her and Scrooge raised a brow- a bit pretentious, he couldn’t help but think, and decided that just “Donald” would do fine. “And the girl is Dumbella Abigail Duck.” Scrooge inwardly cringed- certainly  _ that _ one wouldn’t come back to bite them. He made a silent bet with himself that the little girl would be calling herself Bella or Abby within a couple years. _

_ Both babies were deemed perfectly healthy by the attending doctor, who left immediately after being paid. Scrooge spoke briefly to the new parents, giving his congratulations, and suffered through Hortense forcing him to hold at least one of them (it ended up being Donald) before he was allowed to take his leave. _

_ Although he would never tell his sister, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. _

_ He wasn’t the biggest fan of babies, but he could make some exceptions for these ones. _

* * *

“Hey Louie, go long!”

“What- ow!”

“Dewey,  _ go long _ means throw further, not harder!”

“Well how was I supposed to know that?”

Huey peeked over the top of his book as Dewey went over to their youngest brother, whose hands were clamped over his forehead. The football the blue-clad triplet had thrown rolled over to Launchpad, who scooped it up before leading Webby over to the other children.

Bentina was making her way over to Louie as well, a frown set on her face. Huey glanced up at the window to their uncle’s study but Scrooge’s curtains were drawn, so he guessed that he was focusing on work.

That was good; he always fussed when one of them got hurt. He was such a worrywart.

“I’m fine,” Louie said, batting his brother’s worried hands away. 

“Your forehead’s all red,” Webby told him. “It looks like it hurts.”

“But I’m fine, it’s not like I was knocked out or anything.”

Huey stood up and went to join his brothers, watching as Louie rubbed the darkening spot on his forehead. “That’s gonna bruise,” he needlessly pointed out.

“It’s fine,” Louie huffed, rolling his eyes. “Can we get back to the game?”

“How about,” Bentina started, plucking the football out of Launchpad’s arms, “we go inside. You four can work on your homework and I can get started on dinner.”

The children all groaned but, knowing better than to argue, turned to head inside. Their books were waiting for them on the table- whether Scrooge had set them out before locking himself in his study or Bentina had before they ran outside they didn’t know- and they each took a seat in front of their own books, flipping them open to the correct page almost in unison.

Their tutor was a kind old lady, but her voice was rather... monotonous. Huey, ever the good student he was, had taken meticulous notes from both the lessons and the books, while Dewey and Louie were less prepared with scrawled notes- Louie’s notes had doodles all over them- and Webby’s notes were sporadic but much more helpful than Huey’s brothers’. As such, Huey’s notes were placed right in front of him, with a brother on either side occasionally leaning over to look at them, and Huey didn’t mind at all.

He was the oldest brother, after all- he was supposed to help them when they needed it.

Time seemed to crawl by, the only sign it was moving at all being the mouthwatering scent of breakfast-for-dinner filling the air and the steadily darkening sky outside. 

Huey finished his homework first, and Louie second. It always seemed to be that way- Huey stayed on task and Louie knew how to use words. Dewey’s thoughts were, typically, everywhere and took a few tries for him to get it in an understandable format, and Webby went into more detail than Huey did, leaving her essays nearly twice as long as the minimum requirement. Their tutor tried to break her of the habit but, after a while, just accepted that Webby wasn’t going to change.

Her essays were very informative, anyway. Huey enjoyed reading them.

Then Launchpad slipped into the room, holding a stack of plates.

“Alright,” Launchpad started, “time for dinner!”

“We know the drill,” Louie said, snapping his book closed and removing all of his stuff from the table. The others followed suit, and Huey took the books and their completed work out to the foyer and neatly put them back in their places by the door, stacking the homework up on top so the tutor could just grab them on her way inside in the morning.

“Good evenin’, Huey,” he heard his uncle’s voice and turned to look at the stairs.

“Hey, Uncle Scrooge,” Huey greeted with a small smile, watching the old duck walk down the stairs. He waited for Scrooge to reach the ground floor before heading into the dining room with him.

“Hey, Uncle Scrooge,” Dewey and Louie chorused as Webby smiled and waved.

They all took their seats again- Scrooge at the head of the table, as was appropriate- and Bentina brought the food out. 

“Oh boy, pancakes!” Dewey cheered, grinning over at Louie.

“Waffles are still superior,” Louie stated with a cool smile. “But pancakes are good, too.”

“Blasphemy!”

They all laughed as they dished out the food- pancakes with maple syrup, sausage and raspberries on the side. It was nothing fancy and definitely not up to Bentina’s usual standards of “healthy,” but Scrooge had agreed years ago to let the kids decide what Wednesday dinners would be, and that day they had all agreed on “breakfast for dinner.” They couldn’t agree on specifics- Dewey wanted pancakes and bacon, Louie wanted waffles and fruit, Huey wanted scrambled eggs and sausage, and Webby wanted all of them.

_ “Really, why choose when you can have them all?” _

Couldn’t argue the logic, but Bentina was not about to make four different dishes. So they had compromised, allowing her to choose what to do; Dewey got his pancakes, Louie got his raspberries and Huey got his sausage.

And Webby got at least one thing from each dish.

“Don’t eat too fast,” Scrooge warned them, eying a raspberry on the end of his fork. “Ye might choke or get sick.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Scrooge,” Louie almost laughed, carelessly popping a syrup-coated berry into his mouth. “We know how to eat.”

Scrooge raised a brow at the youngest triplet as he almost immediately began choking- just momentarily before he coughed the rogue berry into a napkin. “Well ye sure showed me.”

Louie gave their uncle a withering pout.

Dewey snorted into his orange juice and cringed as it splashed up onto his face. Webby grinned and Huey... didn’t know how to feel.

Looking from Louie’s bruised forehead to Dewey’s orange-coated face, he tried to crack a smile. He just couldn’t.

Not for the first time his eyes trailed down to the empty end of the table, to the two placemats that were always set out but never used. Then he looked back at Scrooge, who was speaking to Louie-  _ “What happened to yer head, lad?”- _ but seemed to be looking elsewhere, far away, as if Louie and Dewey weren’t answering at all. Scrooge always seemed to be looking elsewhere.

As if he was waiting for someone else.

* * *

Gladstone was their cousin, but for some reason they had always been told,  _ This is yer uncle Gladstone. _ He was lucky beyond belief and always had a cool, suave smile on his face. He didn’t visit often but when he did, he came bearing gifts- books, movies, toys, stories of the world outside their walls, all sorts of things. He was happy to answer questions and when he was around they were allowed to play outside without Bentina there, too.

They loved their Uncle Gladstone. He was fun to be around, always smiling and laughing and having a good time with his nephews and honorary niece.

However, sometimes his smiles didn’t seem to meet his eyes. 

He never talked about their parents. The triplets often wondered if it was because it was painful to him or because he knew Scrooge didn’t want them to know yet. He always had an excuse when they asked.

_ “Well, that’s a story I think needs to wait until you’re older.” _

_ “You know that’s not something you need to know.” _

_ “That’s something you need to hear from Uncle Scrooge, not me.” _

If the children had any issue with Gladstone, it was the way he would suddenly shut up and avoid answering.

The only relief they found was that Gladstone didn’t seem to like it either. When he gave an excuse, his smile fell. A strange sadness seemed to fill him, one that stopped the children from insisting.

Gladstone didn’t come over often, but they always knew when it’d be. They always looked forward to his visits.

His arrival that weekend, however, was sudden, almost jarring- no phone call, no warning, nothing. One moment the four kids were racing slinkies down the stairwell, the next Gladstone burst into the room.

“Where’s Uncle Scrooge?” the lucky goose demanded of the startled children, his usual smile replaced by a frustrated scowl. Each child stared, wide-eyed, at the unfamiliar air around their beloved uncle.

“In the upstairs entertainment room,” Huey answered, unsure of what else he could say. A slinky fell on his foot as it reached the bottom, but he didn’t look down at it. “Why?”

“Nevermind that,” Gladstone sighed, his expression softening slightly as he looked around at the confused ducklings. “Has anything changed? At all?”

“No?” Louie shared a look with Webby, raising a brow. “Things are the same as they’ve always been.”

“You’re almost thirteen,” Gladstone almost growled, putting a hand to his forehead. “This is getting ridiculous.” Then he practically glided past them and up the stairs, patting heads as he passed by. “I need to speak to Scrooge, then we’ll go play outside, alright?”

_ I need to speak to Scrooge. _ Not “Uncle Scrooge,” just Scrooge. Huey shivered; Gladstone was mad.

“A-alright,” they agreed, stunned as they watched their uncle disappear onto the second floor. After a brief look shared between them, all four ducklings suddenly started hurrying up the stairs.

Gladstone was  _ never  _ mad.

When they reached the second floor they crept over to the entertainment room. Its door was cracked open slightly so they settled down on either side of it, listening.

“Why haven’t you told them yet?” Gladstone demanded, his voice heated.

“What are ye on about now, Gladstone?” 

“The kids. They’re almost teenagers, Scrooge- you  _ need _ to tell them the truth!” Huey shared a look with Dewey, biting his lip.  _ The truth? _

“They don’t need tae ken.” Scrooge’s voice had suddenly turned cold, something they had never heard from the old duck before. It chilled all four of them, and unconsciously they shifted closer to one another.

“But it’s their  _ right _ to know! You can’t erase them!”

“I’m nae tryin’ tae erase them!”

“Do they even know her name? Do they even know he existed?!”

Their voices were rising and the kids looks around at each other, wide-eyed. What, they wondered silently, had prompted this sudden explosion from Gladstone?

Who was he talking about?

“It’s been  _ ten years, _ Unc! And they haven’t even been outside of the yard before!”

“I’m jus’ tryin’ to protect them!” Scrooge snarled, and for a moment Huey was worried that Gladstone was about to get himself murdered.

“What about when you’re gone, huh? How will they survive then, with no one to  _ protect _ them?!” Gladstone seemed to hiss the words, and Huey suddenly realized that this- this was a long time coming for the frustrated goose. For the goose who wanted so badly to tell them about what happened, about his own past, about  _ their _ past, but couldn’t. “You won’t be here forever, old man! Della couldn’t be, Donald couldn’t be, what makes you think-”

The sound of Scrooge’s cane slamming down onto a table interrupted Gladstone’s rant. Silence echoed in the aftermath, a ringing silence that seemed to consume everything. Huey felt the sudden desire to  _ run. _

Gladstone broke the silence, saying, “Uncle Scrooge, I-”

“Don’t,” was all Scrooge said, voice low and barely carrying all the way towards the door. He sounded... hurt. “Ye said yer piece, Gladstone. Now leave.”

There was a hesitant pause before Gladstone, seeming to become firm again, said, “You can’t keep it from them forever, Scrooge.” 

Footsteps alerted the children that Gladstone was approaching the door, so they quickly scrambled away and hurried to the nearest bedroom- Dewey’s.

With the door closed behind them, they all looked at one another.

“So,” Louie started unsteadily, “anyone wanna take a guess what that was all about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh come now, you didn't think Gladstone wouldn't be involved in these kids' lives somehow, did you?
> 
> Just like Gladstone never told them about Scrooge, like Donald probably asked him to, here he didn't tell them about Donald, just like Scrooge asked him not to.  
> But Gladstone can only stand this for so long.


End file.
